Atonement
by veritaserum804
Summary: "For who could ever learn to love a beast..." Victor/OC Victor Creed/OC Sabretooth/OC
1. I

**A/N: I've been an X-Men geek since the days of the cartoon from the 90's, so we're talking over twenty years. Ironically it wasn't until this year that I pretty much fell madly in love with Victor Creed and the entire storyline surrounding him in X-Men Origins. That being said, when I write this, I'm writing through the lens of this movie, so I see Victor the way Liev Schreiber & Michael-James Olsen portrayed him, physically, emotionally, historically, etc. I'll also be fixing the gaping continuity holes that the series left us with (thanks a lot Bryan Singer). It's rated M for language, violence, and what **_**will**_ **be a healthy dose of other R-rated stuff…if you catch my drift. ;) Obligatory Disclaimer: Katrina is mine of course but I do not own the X-Men Universe or the characters from that universe but boy do I wish I owned Victor Creed. sigh…**

Ж

Her heart sped up as she watched them bring in Victor Creed. He looked every bit as formidable as his file suggested he was but there was something in his thrashing that suggested he was broken. As he disappeared out of sight with the others behind the doors to the clinic she heard one last roar of resistance from him. A cold wave ran through her at the sound and her heart slowed, every beat in sync with the anguish that came from it. Her eyes closed momentarily and she shuddered. When they opened again it was to find Professor Xavier looking at her in a way that suggested he knew something she didn't.

Irritated she narrowed her eyes at him and tore from the room. She loathed being read by him like an open book. Hated even more that she couldn't justify this hostility towards him when he effectively was the only reason she was even still alive.

She caught a glimpse of Logan before she left, the expression on his face indiscernible but the waves of guilt and turmoil coming off of him impossible to miss.

Halfway down the hall she heard the Professor's voice inside her head… _"I'd like you to take this case Katrina."_

She stopped in her tracks, began to shake and stalked back to the room they were just in. Her long black hair fell in waves down her back as she sped up angrily down the hall again.

Shoving the door open violently she approached the Professor, Logan at his side, "I don't _want_ to do this one, I didn't sign up for this–

–It's the deal we agreed upon."

"BULLSHIT.' Her chest rose and fell with the anger now building inside, _'I agreed to help you with_ kids _not fully grown men."_

"And Erik what was he?"

Her jaw clenched and her nostrils flared angrily, the septum ring she wore suddenly much more noticeable as she did so.

"Mortimer? John? Cain? Jamie? Robert?

– _ALRIGHT_ I GET IT."

" _Hey,_ take it easy." Logan stepped forward his voice assertive and his stance threatening.

Her slender but shapely frame was accented when she moved, rounding on Logan now, her eyes turning a striking hazel color as opposed to the dark brown they were before.

He raised one eyebrow and before she could react Professor Xavier's voice entered her mind yet again, _"Enough Katrina."_

Struggling to suppress her instincts she took a few steps back, her breathing hitched, her eyes darting from the Professor to Wolverine.

Finally she turned on her heel and walked out, angrily slamming the heavy wooden doors shut behind her.

Logan crossed his arms against his chest, "…What the hell's the matter with her?"

"Katrina is an empath."

He snorted, "You're kidding right?"

"No." he turned his chair to face him, "I am not kidding."

"Seems a little belligerent for an empath don't you think?"

He smiled knowingly, "About on par for the course actually."

Logan said nothing, he knew too well that there were certain things about mutants he would never fully understand.

"You and your brother have been near immortal for how long now James?"

He furrowed his brows, "Something like 180 years…give or take…why?"

"The world is changing and so are you. Your brother's ability to heal is beginning to show signs of fading. Do you think we would've been able to hold him long enough to bring him here if that wasn't the case?"

Bothered he leaned against the desk behind him, "Alright so what's your point?"

"This may be the last chance your brother has to reclaim his lost humanity."

Logan considered him for a moment then dismissed the thought, "That ship has sailed old man."

He put on his jacket and was almost to the door when Xavier spoke again, "Do you really believe that?"

He turned around one last time, "You tell me."

And with that he was gone.


	2. II

Only just past midnight she sat with her back against the wall, papers spread all over the floor at her feet. Her bedroom was a tomb at times, a refuge at others. Right now it felt more like a tomb.

Closing her eyes she tried to empty her mind of the thoughts that were currently clouding her ability to focus. No easy task as there were always many. She was finding it difficult, more so than usual, to shake the weight of sadness that had engulfed her since earlier that morning. She could never pinpoint what triggered these episodes, they were always so sporadic. She thought it might have something to do with the impending assignment but really it could be anything.

She opened her eyes again and picked up the only paper that had a photograph. It was faded, slightly yellowed, and dated 1973. The image was of a man who looked no older than 30…maybe 35, standing up with his hands tied behind his back around a long wooden pole. Looking closer she saw two silver tags hanging from a chain around his neck. Military. Her jaw clenched. She couldn't help but notice the imposing muscles across his chest, those of his shoulders and arms laid bare in the sun, and his hands, clenched into fists with claws instead of fingernails…claws that looked like they could break skin upon even the slightest of contact.

Her eyes wandered then to his face, his expression defiant, his grey eyes haunting as they stared ahead of him, showing not even the slightest amount of fear, only strength. His dark brown hair was thick and cut slightly short. She wondered if it curled when it was longer…

Catching herself she threw the paper down violently. What a stupid thing to wonder. She near growled in self-loathing, scratching absentmindedly at her wrist and shaking her head to rid her of the thought.

Angrily she sifted through the rest of the papers, all telling her nothing she wanted or needed to know. It was all shit she'd heard a million times before. His crimes were not original. His execution of them was maybe but that was the case with every cursed soul who walks the earth a mutant.

And then she came across something that made her stop. His date of birth was listed as 1834, give or take a few years... How was that possible…

She scanned further down the page and found the answer to that question. He had a healing factor. Just like Logan….and just like her. Though unlike herself he didn't have to put himself through excruciating emotional torment to activate said healing factor. He just had it all the time. Must be nice…

Bitter she threw the remaining pages to the floor and stood up. Date of birth 1834…she cringed as she thought of how many years of life that was…how many memories he must have…how much emotional and mental damage could've been inflicted in that length of time.

Against her will she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the wall next to her bed as she passed. How long had she been so pale?

She walked closer to examine herself. Dark circles stained beneath her eyes and though her lips were full they were almost completely devoid of color. The longer she looked the angrier she felt. She couldn't remember the last time she felt anything even remotely resembling happiness.

Spiraling down into that endless cycle again, all reason and rationality made a swift exit towards the door as her emotions started to take over completely. What good was Xavier saving her life if she had no life worth living?

She slammed her fist against the mirror and reveled in the sound of the broken glass as it shattered into fragments and fell from the wall. The knuckles on the back of her hand broke open and leaked blood. She stretched her hand out in front of her and watched as the wounds sealed themselves shut in a matter of seconds.

Fuck protocol. Why wait until tomorrow to meet Victor? Why not just do it now? If she was lucky maybe he'd rip her apart and put her out of her misery, do the job for her so she wouldn't have to do it herself.

She kicked off her shoes violently, grabbed an oversized black sweatshirt from the drawer by the nightstand and put it on.

Intimidating to everyone but herself, she left her room and began to stalk down the halls of the mansion towards the clinic, a determined grin on her face, clad in nothing but a pair of socks and a sweatshirt that fell to just below her knees.

Finally reaching the large oak wall that served as passage to the clinic she pushed it gently and watched it open for her as it had many times before. She walked in, the door closed behind her and she folded her arms, impatient and pulling small pieces of shattered glass from the ends of her long black hair.

When the elevator door finally opened a wave of anxiety and discomfort hit her instantly. She looked ahead of her to find o her surprise that there was no one in the room except for him.

Apprehensively she walked forward, his eyes the first thing that connected with hers. They were greyer than the photograph, even more striking too and in this moment filled with a terrifying rage she'd only ever seen once before in her life.

She narrowed her eyes and felt her insides grow cold when to her horror she walked closer and saw the state of him…a crude chain and leather muzzle covered his mouth and adamantium straps were holding him down by his wrists, ankles, neck and torso. He was laying on the table usually designated for patients recovering from serious injuries, though he hardly looked injured. Though she hated herself for it she couldn't help but feel pain for this man they called an animal. After all she had been in his place once…

Ж

Before he saw her he smelled her. He picked up on her scent almost as soon as she walked out of the elevator…uniquely female…laced with something that was too sweet to be anything good.

He didn't take too well to being held down in any capacity, let alone like this. It was distracting him to say the least, but he'd been through worse.

Though part of him wanted to rip her apart as she began walking closer whatever human part of him there was left felt some kind of strange relief instead as she did.

He could hear her heart pounding inside her chest even if he couldn't see it beating against her skin. She looked scared too…but not as scared as she should be.

She surveyed him from top to bottom and finally spoke, "You must have some serious issues with authority huh?"

The question threw him off, not least because she wasn't even looking in his eyes when she asked it. She just kept staring at his wrists. He didn't answer her. Who the fuck was she?

She grinned knowingly and answered his silence, "Me too."

She moved closer to him, close enough that he could see the pulse pounding in her neck as she reached over him looking for the hook that locked the muzzle in place.

His chest started to rise and fall from the anxiety that had been building all day, her proximity not helping matters at all.

Finally she found the latch and unhooked it, though with some difficulty, pulling off the muzzle completely. The instant relief that surged through him surged through her as well.

He inhaled sharply taking in a full breath of air for the first time in hours, baring his fangs as he did so and trying as much as possible to suppress the deep growl building inside his chest. He wanted to destroy everyone and everything within a ten mile radius but he figured the likelihood of her letting him go would greatly decrease if he threatened her.

She was looking down, distant, as though staring at something he couldn't see, "Better?"

His voice was gravelly when he answered her, "What do you think?"

When she heard him speak for the first time her eyes widened and she looked up at him, her gaze unclear but unnerving nevertheless. It was as if she'd never really heard a man's voice before…

He surveyed her back suspiciously.

Disturbed for reasons she wasn't entirely sure of, she walked over to the computer that was about a foot away from the edge of the table he was laying on. She refused to lose focus. Not this time.

Within half a minute she had the code that would override the system and retract the adamantium holding him hostage. Her fingers paused over the keyboard…she could feel the anticipation in his stare and every survival instinct she had begging her not to go through with this. But alas…she did anyway…

The straps retracted like a whip, releasing him.

He sprang from the table, shaking with rage, every muscle expanding as he roared so loudly chills ran down her spine.

She started to back away from him as he stretched and cracked his neck, his claws fully extending as he rounded on her, bare chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the virile rage flowing through him.

"That was a mistake sweetheart."

She sighed as he stalked towards her and her eyes turned hazel before him, "You think so?"

Within seconds his claws were dug deep into her neck. She gasped for air as the pain of the wounds he inflicted rendered her unable to breathe and fell on her back to the floor.

He stared down at her, beautiful…but pale and broken now, her eyes large and still. He almost felt sorry for killing this one. Almost.

He did her the courtesy of stepping over her body as he walked forward toward the elevator but just as he approached it his ears perked up again.

Before he had the chance to turn his head she pounced on his back, dragging long extended claws identical to his own across his throat from behind.

He yelled, angrily threw her off of him and turned to find that she'd landed on her feet, just as he would have.

Her eyes were so bright now they were almost painful to look at and she was shaking but held a smirk as he approached her again, his voice calm and menacing, "Why didn't you tell me you could do that before?"

"What and spoil all the fun?"

He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her up off the ground. She may have absorbed his mutation, but she was nowhere near as strong as he was.

She grinned manically as he tried to squeeze the life from her in vain. Every time he crushed her windpipe it just sprang back into form. It was like fighting his brother.

Furious he let go and she fell to the floor again, that manic grin marring a face that was too pretty for her own good.

He grabbed her by the throat again, his weight keeping her body pressed to the floor but not her hands which had found their way around his neck, her long claws leaving puncture wounds wherever they touched.

As she lay locked in his grip, her hair sprawled out on the floor beneath her she felt her desire to live start to slip away. Why keep fighting this battle she knew neither of them would win? Why not let him be the one to take her life? He'd be doing her a favor, not to mention the honor of being the one to grant her release…really she'd be doing the job Xavier wanted her to do anyway…

Thinking his strength had overcome her he watched as the claws that replaced her fingernails around his neck retracted and went back to normal. The fangs in her mouth receded, her eyes turned from hazel back to brown and he felt her resistance beneath his hands slowly start to ebb away.

Naturally he squeezed her throat even tighter, the serene look on her face throwing him off as she faintly spoke, "Go ahead…I want you to."

His hands shifted uncomfortably around her. No one had ever wanted him to do this before…

With what little was left of her strength she brought her hand up to his cheek, almost lovingly. One last time she wanted to truly see someone. Even if that someone was Victor Creed.

She closed her eyes and visions danced before her of him, much younger, just a boy, a boy who was scared…scared of who or what she couldn't tell, it was blurry, either because she was losing too much oxygen or because he was fighting her.

The truth was a mixture of both. It was taking all his energy just to keep her from penetrating further into his mind and his grip was starting to become slack. That mind game shit wasn't supposed to work on him. Others had tried it before, but what she was doing was different. It wasn't coming _from_ her…the memories were all his own, she was just summoning them, and it made him weak….nothing _ever_ made him weak…

That was the last thought in his mind before he heard the sound of a bullet escaping the barrel of a gun.

Ж

 **A/N: Wow so that was exhausting to write, many reasons as to why. Thank you so much for all the follows/favorites! More to come lovelies!**


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